Defiance
by AZGirl
Summary: Porthos was reminded of something that they had said in that situation which had bolstered their belief that they would live to fight another day. Spoilers for 3.06 Death of a Hero.


**Disclaimer** : The Musketeers are not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.

 **Spoilers** : 3. 06 Death of a Hero.

 **A/N** : I'm not sure this can rightly be called a missing scene, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

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 **ooooooo**

" _We refuse to die!"_

 _~~~~~~~D'Artagnan & Porthos, 3.06 Death of a Hero_

 **ooooooo**

The two Musketeers were in trouble.

Trouble as in there was no way to stop Death from coming for them if something didn't change in the next quarter hour.

In the midst of yet another seemingly pointless battle for a plot of land that didn't have much value to either side of the conflict, Porthos and d'Artagnan were separated from the rest of their regiment.

Sometime during the cannonade that followed, d'Artagnan was wounded by shrapnel. Porthos had already been knocked to the ground, but as he was getting back up, another barrage of fire had landed and he'd seen d'Artagnan's body violently jerk before dropping to the ground.

His heart in his throat, Porthos stayed low to the ground and carefully made his way towards his friend. Along the way, he came across Caillebotte, but the man's sightless eyes told Porthos that the Musketeer was far beyond the help of mere mortals. Hands shaking from the heat of battle and his fear that he was already too late to help d'Artagnan, Porthos checked for a pulse at the younger man's neck.

Porthos would have been felled by relief if the circumstances surrounding him were not so dire. He did a quick visual check of his young friend and discovered a piece of shrapnel sticking out of d'Artagnan's right thigh. He was tempted to pull it out, but Aramis had drilled it into him long ago that such a course of action was a very bad idea unless medical help of some kind was near at hand.

He then thought he had heard a signal for a retreat – or was it to attack? With the ringing in his ears and the smoke of the cannon fire still surrounding them, Porthos could not be sure which army was going to be doing what or where the rallying point was. Either way, he didn't really have much time to tend to d'Artagnan's wound; they needed to get out of the way of the fighting as soon as possible.

When he patted d'Artagnan's cheek in order to rouse him, the younger man's body suddenly almost leapt up off the ground in a frantic attempt to grab a weapon. Porthos began to immediately calm d'Artagnan, though his efforts became unnecessary when his friend groaned in pain, having finally felt the pain of his wound.

Porthos quickly explained the situation as he used his bandana to wrap the wound in such a way as to keep the shrapnel in place while slowing the bleeding. He no longer regularly wore a bandana out on the battlefield, but was thankful he had chosen to do so on this day. Porthos had taken to not wearing them as often, not wanting the enemy to be able to grab the tail end and get past his defenses. For a similar reason, Athos no longer wore a scarf out on the battlefield.

When Porthos finished bandaging the wound, d'Artagnan was panting, trying to catch his breath from not being able to vocalize the pain he'd just endured. When his breathing had begun to slow, d'Artagnan pointed out towards the east of their current position.

Following along the line of sight, Porthos realized that d'Artagnan was pointing towards a place that could provide cover for them until they were either discovered by the enemy or rescued by their fellow soldiers. Evidently, d'Artagnan had realized that his injury currently prevented him from making it very far without help, and that Porthos had no intention of leaving him behind. Seeking cover was the best they could do for the moment.

Porthos helped d'Artagnan to stand and wished he could give the younger man time to adjust to being vertical once again, but they were running out of what little time they had. The best they could hope for was that they would not be spotted as they made their way across their part of the battlefield.

D'Artagnan tried to help Porthos, but it was taking all of his energy to not cry out at the pain as he was forced to walk. The inside of his cheek was starting to bleed from him biting it so hard in order to keep from making any sound that might attract the attention of any enemy soldiers. The fighting was getting closer, which only made Porthos go faster towards the outcropping of land he'd spotted.

When they got there, Porthos had his doubts that both of them would be able to fit in the space that the naturally-formed outcropping afforded. There was also some scrub brush, but neither of the men could be sure the location was enough to provide enough cover for the both of them.

Porthos was about to suggest that he either go find somewhere else for him to wait things out or rejoin the fight, but d'Artagnan grabbed the lapel of his doublet and pulled him down to the ground. D'Artagnan, probably realizing what his friend had intended and knowing that rejoining a fight in this situation would likely be a death sentence for them both, refused to let go until Porthos had squeezed himself underneath the outcropping.

It was an extremely tight fit with absolutely no room to spare between the two men lying on their backs on the rocky ground. As it was, d'Artagnan had wedged himself as far back as possible into the recess, which due to the irregularly-shaped space, meant the younger man was unable to leave any space between the top of the shrapnel stuck in his leg and the ceiling of the outcropping that they found themselves in.

If they weren't careful or if they moved too much, then their armor would make contact and create more noise than either man was comfortable with. As an added precaution against being seen, Porthos grabbed some dirt and rubbed it over any parts of his armor that might still be able to reflect light.

All in all, d'Artagnan was in constant pain, and Porthos barely had room to breathe. They both tried – and failed – to not think about the likelihood that they would be discovered by the enemy.

In that moment, Porthos wished Aramis was with them, so that his friend could pray for the miracle they needed, which was to not be spotted by the enemy. Instantly, guilt sprang up within him because he'd rather Aramis was safe in a monastery too far removed from the front lines, than there with them possibly about to die. Though, if he knew Aramis like he thought he did, the man was praying for them every day, and that idea alone brought him a certain amount of comfort.

D'Artagnan turned his head and studied the side of Porthos's face. He could see that the older man was worried for their safety and likely thinking about their precarious situation. Without Porthos there to help him, he would have already been dead or captured by the enemy. Yet, wasn't he also condemning Porthos to the same fate if they were to be caught?

He thought about Athos, and felt guilty that the older man would have to suffer through two of his closest friends dying on the same day. It almost made him wish that Porthos had not come to his aid, and yet he was just as incredibly grateful that he would not have to die alone. For that outcome seemed likely given the sounds he could hear coming from nearby. The men were speaking Spanish, and at any moment, he expected that they would be found.

They may have cheated Death when they were separated from their regiment, but it seemed like this time—

So caught up in his thoughts, d'Artagnan didn't catch what Porthos had just quietly said.

Knowing that their enemy was far too close for comfort, d'Artagnan was forced to murmur, "What?"

Porthos hadn't realized that he had said anything aloud when d'Artagnan spoke. He had been thinking about Aramis and the last time they had been within minutes of dying. It reminded him of something they had said in that situation which had bolstered their belief that they would live to fight another day. Since that time and until this war had broken out, they had said the words more than once. And they were both still alive.

"I refuse to die!" Porthos said, putting as much force behind the words as possible despite barely speaking louder than a whisper.

When d'Artagnan continued to look at him, confusion written all over his face, Porthos turned his head and put his mouth as close to d'Artagnan's ear as he could.

"I refuse to die," Porthos very quietly repeated. "Aramis and I were in trouble once. No way out. Done for. But then, Aramis, out of the blue, said the words _I refuse to die!_ and kept repeating them – over and over again."—He couldn't help the wide grin on his face at the memory—"Then I started in with him and it amped us up so much that we went for it. We should've died, but somehow, we didn't. I was just thinking about Aramis and how he's safe from this madness. I didn't realize that I'd said those words out loud at first."

Silence descended between them, but Porthos couldn't let it stand for very long.

"I _refuse_ to die!" he said with vehemence.

He then felt something touch his hand, which almost made him startle, but then he realized it was d'Artagnan. The light touch became a hand tightly grasping his fingers.

" _We…We_ refuse to die," d'Artagnan said.

Porthos smiled and nodded his head once. " _We_ refuse to die," he repeated.

A few seconds go by before they said completely in sync with each other, "We refuse to die!"

Despite their defiant words, they were almost discovered – twice. By the second time, d'Artagnan had finally passed out from a combination of the pain, blood loss, and the exhaustion that comes from both of those things. In his head, Porthos kept repeating the words; they served to keep his spirits up and helped to keep his worry for d'Artagnan in check.

At one point, some unknown amount of time later, he realized that an eerie calm had settled over the area. Except for him and d'Artagnan, the place now seemed devoid of life. The problem was that he had no way of knowing which army had won the day or who was now in possession of the land.

He wormed his way partly out of from under the rock formation which had kept them safe, carefully listening to his surroundings. After another minute or two of quiet, Porthos risked leaving the hideout and took a quick look around. Finding no one, he decided to risk grabbing d'Artagnan and making a run for the French encampment.

Porthos managed to get d'Artagnan to partly return to consciousness, just enough to keep them moving. Until, suddenly it wasn't enough and d'Artagnan went down, causing him to stumble. As he was trying to get his friend up off the ground, he heard sounds that meant men were coming their way, yet he could not yet hear what language they were speaking.

Uncharacteristic panic managed to break into the iron control he'd had over his emotions this whole time. He tried to lift his friend up off the ground, but couldn't get their limbs coordinated quickly enough and they fell back into a heap. When the sounds stopped, he mentally apologized to d'Artagnan for not being able to keep them safe and looked up…into the faces of several soldiers from the French regular army.

They were safe.

Porthos allowed the men to help the two of them up off the ground, which managed to bring d'Artagnan back to consciousness. He allowed one of the men to help him support d'Artagnan as they made their way back towards camp. And he allowed a sigh of relief when he saw Musketeers, including Athos, heading their way.

Athos quickly dismounted and rushed towards them, taking in their conditions, and likely immediately noting d'Artagnan's leg injury. Despite this visual inspection, the captain asked if they were alright.

Uncertain how to answer regarding his own condition – mental or otherwise – Porthos simply shrugged. The only thing he really cared about at the moment was that d'Artagnan needed some proper medical aid sooner rather than later.

However d'Artagnan, who looked beyond ready for a bed and something for the pain, said, "We refused to die."

Athos and Porthos shared a look. Athos smiled slightly, obviously having recognized the saying.

He then moved to d'Artagnan's side and took the place of the solider that had been helping Porthos to keep their friend upright and mobile.

As they continued towards the encampment, Athos said, "And I refused to believe you were dead."

ooooooo

 _Present day…_

When Athos had heard the explosion and the gunshots, he had refused to believe his closest friends were dead.

When he saw the rubble left behind as a result of the explosion, he still would not allow himself to believe that they were gone.

When Minister Tréville had pulled him off the search through the rubble, after some of the smaller, more unstable pieces of debris had toppled down upon him, he couldn't bear to watch the other men continue to dig without being able to help.

When he heard his friends yell – _We refuse to die!_ – Athos almost couldn't believe what he'd heard.

When the memory of the day d'Artagnan sustained a shrapnel wound to his leg briefly flitted through his mind, Athos knew he wasn't imagining things.

His friends were alive, and the relief he felt stirred him to action, prompting him to rush towards the rubble and resume digging through it.

His friends had refused to die, and he had refused to believe that they were dead.

They had defied Death once again.

ooooooo

 _The end._

 **ooooooo**

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Just a reminder, but I've not seen any episodes past 3.06.

Many thanks to Celticgal1041 for her help; remaining mistakes are my fault (or are they? – LOL!).

 _ **Thanks for reading!**_


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